


Chrysopoeia

by hiyas, monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alchemy, Co-workers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyas/pseuds/hiyas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy both have their personal reasons for studying Alchemy, but when they decide to work together to develop a new Panacea, they discover more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 39
Kudos: 206
Collections: July - September Mad Frankenstein Fest 2020





	Chrysopoeia

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to the mods at DoF for hosting this fest! And many thanks to hiyas for being so wonderful to work with! Our prompt was Alchemists.
> 
> Much love to raven_maiden for the beta!

“The line should be a little more—”

“Granger, if you try to correct this array after you asked me to work on it, I will break this quill in two.”

“Fine.” Hermione held her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t quite sure why she was fussing anyway—Draco _was_ the one with the neater handwriting. It’s why he was carefully drawing out the alchemical arrays, and she was tending to the elements they were currently transmuting.

She supposed she was just nervous. It felt like they were on the edge of a breakthrough, and both she and Draco had so much riding on this. It wasn’t glory or fame they were chasing—every bit of this was personal in its intention. It’s why they had agreed to put their differences aside and work together in the first place.

“I’m going to go make some more tea. Looks like we’ve got a long night ahead of us. Do you want some?” She hoped her offer would help smooth over any lingering irritation from her interference.

He shook his head briskly, not looking up from the parchment as he drew another line.

She left the large room they used as their laboratory and made her way up to the kitchen. They worked in a rather cozy stone cottage that they rented together. It was the only practical solution—at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She had dodged a rather nasty side eye from Harry and Ron when she told them about it, but what else could she have done? They needed somewhere with more space than her flat, and she refused to return to the Manor, so they had found the next best thing. It even had a bedroom that she slept in on occasion, when she worked late into the evening.

Convenience, that’s all it was. And if she had brought in some decorations to cheer up the place, what was the harm? They were just two alchemists working together in a private location, nothing scandalous—despite the things Rita Skeeter liked to print.

Hermione poured fresh water in the kettle and put it on the stove. Tea always tasted better when brewed the Muggle way. While she waited for the whistle, she puttered around the small kitchen, tidying a little. She could never sit still for long—perhaps a hold over from the war, when there was always something important that needed to be done.

Finally, she forced herself to sit in one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table. The water would be ready shortly. 

As she waited, she began reminiscing about the time she had come to the cottage early to find Draco had slept over. She’d made them both breakfast before they got started. It had almost seemed like they weren’t just colleagues for a moment, but perhaps something resembling friends.

* * *

Draco reached for the dusty old tome at the same time a hand shot up from somewhere below and also latched onto it. He looked down to see Hermione Granger, a very disgruntled look on her face as she stood on tiptoe, her fingers straining for the book. “I was here first, Granger.”

“No you were not, Malfoy. You’re just so bloody tall you didn’t see me.”

His hand was still on the book, his pinky touching her forefinger. Her skin was disarmingly soft. He blinked down at her. “I need this book for the assignment I’m doing for Alchemy class.”

“Well, so do I.” She pouted, and he pretended not to notice how pink her lips were or the light dusting of freckles across her nose.

He rocked back on his heels for a moment, pulling the book out with Hermione’s hand still attached. 

It was only the two of them taking Alchemy this year. The year was hectic for the Hogwarts teachers, with returning eighth years coming to complete their education alongside the seventh years, so they had decided to make the elective Alchemy course self-study. Draco only met with the professor once a week to discuss current projects. 

He raised one eyebrow. “It seems we are at an impasse, then.”

She actually smiled at him. “Unless we reach a compromise?”

He smirked. “I’m listening.”

They decided to share the book, sitting in silence in the library, passing it back and forth as they both scribbled down notes on parchment. It was a tentative arrangement, and he remained civil assuming that was the last he’d have to see of her.

If only he had known then how wrong he was.

* * *

Hermione stirred the cauldron, watching the silvery liquid simmer. It reminded her a little of how memories looked encased in glass before you spilled them into the Pensieve. She and Draco had been at it for hours, but neither was ready to call it a night. She could hear the sound of his quill scribbling away on the parchment, the flipping of pages as he pored over a book he’d nearly memorized by now.

They had been working together for almost two years. If she had known back when she was a child how important the Philosopher's Stone might be to her one day, she might have told Dumbledore to hold onto it. But no, it had been destroyed. And she no longer had access to a Time Turner. So this was all she could do now—work with Draco to develop a new Panacea. Something that would benefit them both.

The ambient noise paused, and Hermione turned around to see Draco shaking his hand in that way he always did when it started cramping up. She had tried to explain to him about carpal tunnel syndrome and Muggle remedies like braces, but he always refused to listen. She walked over and perched on the edge of the table, tugging up the sleeves of her purple sweater just a tad.

“Here, let me.” She took his hand in hers and began massaging his joints, using her thumb to apply gentle pressure. She worked down his long fingers, pushed into his palm, and slipped down to the tendons of his wrist.

When she looked up, he was staring at her intently, his grey eyes having darkened a bit. “That feels good.”

“You need to take breaks sometimes, Draco.” She kept massaging the muscles in his hand.

“So you keep telling me.” His gaze raked over her in a way that made heat suffuse her body despite the chilliness of the lab. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

She suddenly dropped his hand and stood from the table. “I’m going to make more tea. Want some?”

He smirked and leaned back in his chair as if he were appraising her. “Sure.”

Hermione practically raced to the kitchen, her heart pounding out a rapid rhythm. Of course the animosity they’d once had for each other had dissolved into an easy camaraderie over the years, but this was something altogether more concerning. 

Even more concerning were the thoughts she’d been having as she massaged his hand, thinking of all the ways in which he could use those long fingers on her. It wasn’t the first time she’d had less than wholesome thoughts about her partner. She plopped the kettle down a little too harshly, making a loud clanking noise. She pulled at the collar of her sweater, feeling flushed. _Get a grip, Hermione._

* * *

As it turned out, being an alchemist wasn’t a well-respected career these days. Everyone just assumed that Nicholas Flamel had already achieved everything there was to achieve in the field. This made most people choose more lucrative practices.

Draco didn’t care about the money—he had plenty of that. What he needed was a cure. Narcissa was getting worse all the time, and the Healers didn’t have an answer for what exactly was wrong with her. All Draco knew was that she had deteriorated after the war, retreating further and further into her own mind. Now she barely even talked. She spent most of her time in bed, only eating and drinking when prompted by the elves. With his father wasting away in Azkaban, she was all Draco had left. He couldn’t let her just die from whatever mysterious affliction she was suffering from.

Needing a break from the constant ache in the hollow of his chest, he decided to get a bit of fresh air and take a trip to Diagon Alley. Sometimes just wandering the cobblestone streets made him think of better, lighter times. Like purchasing the supplies for his first year at Hogwarts back before his world had turned upside down. However, tonight he needed something a bit stronger.

Draco found himself at the Leaky Cauldron, which was relatively empty, as it was a Tuesday night. He took a seat at the end of the bar and ordered a Firewhisky. He was well into his third glass by the time the sniffling noises from the other side of the room started to bother him. When he jerked his head over his shoulder to scowl at the source, he could hardly believe his eyes. There, sitting across the bar from him, was Hermione Granger, quietly crying into a glass of what looked like red wine.

He grabbed his drink, ignoring the way a bit of the amber liquid sloshed over the side, and took the seat beside her. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, Granger? Weasley dump you?”

She looked up, fire in her deep brown eyes. There she was—the girl he remembered. “For your information, Malfoy, _I_ dumped _him_ months ago. But that’s not why I’m upset.”

This threw him for a loop. He’d always assumed that the annoying swot and her ginger dunce would get married and pop out a few brats, unhappy as hell but unwilling to admit what a poor match they were. “Oh.” _Oh? That’s all you can say? Real slick, Draco._

She wiped under her eyes with a napkin and pulled a mirror from her bag to check her reflection. A quick charm eased the puffiness, and she was back to being her beautiful (albeit irksome) self. The Golden Girl wasn’t usually one for public meltdowns, so whatever was upsetting her had to be serious. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but since Harry is away with his girlfriend, and I’m not currently on speaking terms with Ron, I don’t actually have anyone to talk to.” He waited patiently for her to continue, sipping his Firewhisky. He understood what it was like to not have anyone to talk to. She bit her bottom lip, perhaps in apprehension. “Before the worst of the war, I erased my parents’ memories and sent them to Australia to keep them safe.”

He paused mid-sip, letting his glass clink a little too harshly against the bar. “Christ, Granger.” She was even more ruthless and protective than he’d imagined. His respect for her increased on a level he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with.

“Yes, I know. I wasn’t even sure if I’d live past the war at the time, so I was ready to do anything to make sure they didn’t come to harm. I figured I’d deal with trying to reverse it when the time came. Only… it’s become more difficult than I expected. I had a consultation with an expert today who advised I couldn’t risk reversing the spell without causing irreparable damage to their minds.” Her eyes started to glisten again, and she quickly gulped down the rest of her glass.

Draco nodded to the bartender. “Another Firewhisky, and another of whatever she’s having.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he had never noticed how attractive Hermione was. But here in the dim light, listening to her talk about her parents, he felt something new. It was rather like affection, and he tried to bury it deep, never to think about it again. Which made what came out of his mouth next even more foolish. “Do you still study Alchemy?”

Her eyes lit up and something inside him came alive.

* * *

Okay, so she had taken longer than was strictly necessary to brew their tea. The truth was that she needed a moment to catch her breath after that awkwardly charged moment with Draco. She wasn’t sure exactly when they had become so close. At some point, she had stopped referring to him as Malfoy, only ever using his surname when she was extremely displeased. Then, they had taken to occasionally sharing meals together—mostly when they were working long hours, but still. She would even bring Crookshanks to the cottage sometimes. It hadn’t dawned on her till just now how disconcerting it was that her cat had so quickly warmed to him. Crooks had never taken to Ron, even after years of exposure.

But she was a professional, and they had very important work to do. She would just have to pluck up her Gryffindor courage and return to the lab like nothing had ever happened, never mind the fact that she knew exactly how he took his tea. Or how cute he was in the morning with sleep tousled hair. Or that she sometimes imagined his face in late night moments with her hand down her knickers.

The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the lab as Hermione returned with two mugs and stopped dead in her tracks. Draco had fallen asleep, slumped over one of the books he had been researching when she left. It was late and they had both been working very hard, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him just pass out like this. She set his mug down gently on the nearest counter and walked over to where he was.

“Draco?” she whispered.

He didn’t even stir. Hermione set her own mug down on the table before taking the shawl from her chair and draping it over him. She always kept something in here since it tended to get chilly. A smile crossed her lips as she sat and watched him sleep, her red floral shawl acting as a blanket. She thought of how he might fuss when he awoke to see such a feminine item draped across his broad shoulders.

She sipped her tea in silence, admiring how peaceful he looked like this, when he didn’t have the weight of the world on him. She knew how much guilt he still carried from the war—how he viewed his mother’s condition as somehow his fault. Tentatively, she brought her fingers over to brush his fringe out his face. He really was so beautiful.

The realization crashed over her all at once—she was in love with Draco Malfoy. It seemed like the most obvious answer in the world, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when her feelings for him had started to change. It had happened so gradually that he had become an immovable fixture in her life, and now the thought of going without him set off an ache deep inside. 

Even when they had first started working together—as tenuous as it had been—she had felt fulfilled for the first time in a long time. At the time, she’d assumed the feeling was because she finally had a purpose again in her work, but now she could say with confidence that it had been him all along. They were a team—each other’s missing half. It was so clear to her now. 

Hermione spent so long peeling through past memories in a new light, wondering if there was even the slightest possibility that he could return her feelings, that she must have drifted off. The next thing she knew, there was a bright light bursting somewhere beyond her still closed eyelids. She left them closed, listening to the stirring beside her. Draco was awake.

She heard him chuckle softly to himself before wrapping the shawl around her shoulders and brushing the hair back from her forehead. Then, to her great amazement, she felt his warm, soft lips press ever so lightly against her temple. She made a noise of contentment and let her eyelids flutter open to find him staring at her, eyes widening.

He quickly cleared his throat. “I—uh, thought you were asleep.”

“I was. I woke up just before you kissed me.”

“Right. About that—I was, well… I didn’t mean—” Draco straightened up as he stammered. He looked nervous and the feeling coiled tightly in her chest. It was adorable.

Hermione rose abruptly, not wanting to waste another second. She grabbed him by the lapels and forced him down to her height, pushing up on her toes at the same time to cover his mouth with hers. He melted into it instantly, his arms wrapping tightly around her and pulling her up to sit on the table. 

When they finally pulled back for air, he smiled. She had only seen Draco’s genuine smile on a few occasions, and it was every inch as glorious as she remembered. “Been thinking about that for a long time,” he murmured.

She beamed, warming under his touch as he slid his hand around the back of her neck and into her hair, bringing her back for another kiss. It was slower this time, less frenetic, and when he slid his tongue inside, she couldn’t help but moan.

“Draco,” she breathed at last. “I want to explore this, but we still have so much to do.”

He looked over at the potion still simmering in the corner and down at the stack of parchment filled with alchemical arrays and symbols. “It can wait an hour, don’t you think? What’s the point of having a bedroom if it never sees any use?”

Hermione thought about it for a moment, but barely had a chance to respond before he picked her up and started carrying her down the hall. She let out a squeal that quickly dissolved into laughter as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I suppose you make a good point.”  
  



End file.
